


Continuing the Family Name

by Morninglight (orphan_account)



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Aristocracy, Child Conception, Cunnilingus, F/M, Family Feels, M/M, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Polyamory, Porn with Feelings, Threesome - F/M/M, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-20
Updated: 2016-02-20
Packaged: 2018-05-22 01:02:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6064987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Morninglight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur Maxson has to continue his bloodline but has no intention of giving up his relationship with Paladin Danse. Thankfully, the Sole Survivor Sparrow Finlay agrees to have a child or two for him.</p><p>No one expected them all to catch a bout of the feels.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note: Thanks for reading and reviewing. Trigger warnings for mentions of death, violence, fantastic racism and depression. Danse/Maxson/Sparrow AU smut with minimal (for me) plot because every other attempt has wound up with backstory and I have to return to War and United. Breakpoint for this AU is that Blind Betrayal never happens.

 

When he was thirteen years old, Arthur Maxson watched a nineteen-year-old Knight pull a deathclaw off him so that the Squire could gut its soft underbelly with his ripper despite bleeding profusely. From that day forwards, he’d vowed by the Eternal Steel to treat Danse as a brother, to keep him by his right hand until both should breathe their last. That bond had deepened once he grew into his birthright and rank of Elder, the Paladin’s hard body serving as bulwark in battle and pillow in bed, and nothing seemed to be able to shake it, let alone break it, until now.

            It wasn’t even the woman’s fault. Sparrow Finlay was… lovely. Fine-boned and doe-eyed, a small woman with a mother’s subtle curvaceousness under the Brotherhood uniform and chestnut-brown hair that a man could happily sink his fingers into. A pre-War survivor, frozen until recently, of proven fertility and intelligence. Half the male officers who were at the age and rank to consider procreating were practically chomping at the bit for her to indicate an interest in having children. If she’d been a little more calculating, a little more manipulative, she could have risen through the ranks based on her choice of breeding partners alone.

            Arthur wished she was like that sometimes. A temporary liaison with a woman who could hold her own in Brotherhood politics would serve many purposes, including gaining him an ally with her own reasons to support him. He could do his duty, sire a Maxson or two and continue relying on Danse for close companionship. So long as an Elder fulfilled his duties, what he did in the bedroom was his own business, and none could claim Danse wasn’t worthy of the ranks bestowed on him because he was so very, very competent at what he did.

            But Sparrow Finlay was… lovely. Warm and gentle, rare things in the Wasteland, with a heart that was sometimes too big for her own good. The kind of woman who would pick up a sniper’s rifle and try to keep the enemy away from you even as she trusted in your strength to keep them away from her. The kind of woman who would deserve the title of ‘Lady’ before her name if she wasn’t already serving as a Scribe. Not Elder material, unless she had a stalwart right hand who could serve as her champion – but a fine Elder’s spouse.

            Arthur had been surprised to discover that two-people unions were the norm before the Great War and anything else considered questionable at best. With many marriages arranged in the Brotherhood for the purposes of power and breeding, it was generally considered permissible to have a lover on the side so long as marital duties were taken care of. Male officers had a little more leeway – Elder Casdin, for instance, had an official bride and a female Consort who both bore him children – but women had to be careful not to bear unauthorised children unless _they_ were the ones passing a name on, so their lovers tended to be same-sex or confirmed as sterile. If the situation had been so simple, Arthur would have approached Sparrow, made an offer for her hand and happily continued with Danse as an unofficial Consort. But he doubted that she would be so… open-minded.

            No, the problem was that Sparrow, lovely as she was, seemed to expect a monogamous relationship… and appeared to favour Danse. The kicker was that the Paladin was responding to those subtle overtures because Sparrow, small and soft and gentle as she was, triggered all of his formidable protective instincts in ways Arthur couldn’t.

            He wished it was a cold campaign to wrest Danse from him, because then he could respond in kind by warning the Paladin. But Sparrow was falling in love with Danse, with his quiet strength and gravelly voice, and her intentions were sincere. And while it was a fairly open secret what Danse and Arthur got up to in the Elder’s quarters, it wasn’t _officially_ acknowledged because Arthur needed to sire an heir – so Sparrow, still learning the ways of the Brotherhood, might not be aware of the relationship. The Elder already knew how she’d react – break it off, of course, because she was an honourable woman… and then die slowly because he genuinely believed that her psyche couldn’t handle any more heartbreak.

            So it was time for all three of them to talk frankly. If Danse should wish for an openly acknowledged relationship with Sparrow instead of what was between him and Arthur, the Elder would have no choice but to let him go and break his own heart. But he was selfish enough to not want that.

            Danse, of course, arrived first. Saw the whiskey on the desk and knew things were going to be awkward. Lips twitched in grim humour. “Whiskey won’t work with her. She can toss it back like a thirty-year Proctor. Drank _Teagan_ under the table.”

            Arthur blinked. Teagan was being repeatedly cited for his problems with alcohol, which came from the stress of his job. And the small, sweet, soft-voiced Sparrow Finlay had drunk him under the table. “Maybe the whiskey’s for me.”

            Danse’s face shifted into sympathetic lines. “Do you prefer men?” he asked quietly, lovingly.

            “No. I-“ Arthur rose to his feet and padded over to the wedding photograph of his parents. “What makes you think I’m calling her here to make an offer?”

            “Because she’s the healthiest woman on the Prydwen, has the qualities that Elders like in a procreative partner, is of proven fertility and has – currently – no stake in the factional disputes,” Danse said dryly – and accurately.

            “Would it were so simple,” Arthur sighed. “I suspect that Scribe Finlay expects both exclusivity and an emotional bond in a relationship – and she’s shown no particular interest in _me_.”

            Danse was silent for a moment before he spoke again. “She’s a lot more pragmatic than you might think, Arthur. But with… well… after what happened at the Institute, she’s emotionally fragile. More so than usual.”

            That revelation made Maxson feel even more like an ass by trying to force an ending to this détente. “How so?”

            “I’m not certain. How do you expect a woman who finds out the son she crawled out of a tomb masquerading as a Vault and across half of the Commonwealth to rescue is a cold, amoral little prick who deserves the fate we’re going to dish out to him to feel?” Danse’s voice, normally quiet and grave, was thick with bitter rage.

            “I don’t know, because I’ve never faced such a situation before,” Arthur countered acerbically.

            “You won’t have to doubt her loyalty,” Danse said with pursed lips. “But it may be best to shift her to duties on the Prydwen. She’s done more than enough to bring down the Institute – asking her to help kill her son, even if he’s everything that is despicable about mankind, is a bit much.”

            “I’ll keep that in mind.” Arthur steeled himself to ask a particular question. “How do _you_ feel about her?”

            Danse went very still and the Elder prepared for the worst. “In the six months I have known her, she has become as dear to me as you are,” the Paladin answered. “She’s aware of our relationship as well – Sparrow might be new to the Brotherhood, but she tells me that people haven’t particularly changed _that_ much when it comes to hiding secret love affairs.”

            Arthur laughed, more in relief than in humour at Danse’s wry tone. “I was worried that you… wanted to leave me for her.”

            “An acknowledged relationship instead of an unofficial one?” Danse’s voice was a little wistful now. “It… was tempting. But I’m your shield, Arthur. I would never allow you to be guarded by anyone else. Leaving you in the Capital Wasteland damn-near killed me and I’m not doing that to myself again.”

            Arthur shuddered, closing his eyelids to prevent the sudden tears from spilling down his cheeks. “It was hell for me as well. But I couldn’t send anyone else.”

            “I know. That’s why I went.” Danse walked around the desk and wrapped his arms about Arthur’s waist, resting his chin atop his head.

            They stood there, enjoying the peacefulness of the moment, until Sparrow’s double-knock on the steel door announced her arrival.

            Maxson moved to stand by the desk, greeting her as an equal, as Danse got the door. Aside from dark circles under her eyes and her chestnut-brown bun being a bit messier than usual, Sparrow looked much the same, showing little of the emotional trauma she was surely in. “Elder, Paladin,” she greeted formally.

            “Come in and take a seat,” Arthur urged, gesturing to one of the two chairs in his office.

            She took it while Danse sat in the other after closing the door. “Whiskey?” he asked, offering the bottle.

            “I’d better not. The mood I’m in, I’d down the whole bottle, and that would break a promise I’d made to Nate and Shaun.” Her voice, normally sweet and warm as whiskey, was a complicated mixture of grief, sorrow, anger and bitterness. “Even if one’s dead and the other is no son neither of his parents would be proud of.”

            “I’m sorry. I imagine it must be hard,” Arthur said sympathetically.

            “Fighting a deathclaw and a dozen raiders in Concord while wearing half-broken power armour was easier than walking through the Institute with a smile on my face while synths thanked me for bearing Shaun, their ‘father’, like I was Mary Mother of God and he was Jesus Christ.”

            Arthur recalled that Sparrow followed a particular brand of Christianity, a long-dead variant called Catholicism that venerated the virgin who bore the god-child almost as much as the god-child himself. “I’m sorry we asked that of you. I promise that we’ll try to spare you more in the future.”

            The Vault Dweller sighed. “I feel for the synths. I know what you say about technology, but I don’t blame a child for the sins of their parents… and in a way, I’m their grandmother.”

            Danse and Arthur exchanged glances. Now was not the time to argue the point.

            Sparrow shifted in her seat, regarding the two men frankly. “I had the feeling you’d ask me to, ah, be the oven to bake a precious little Maxson bun or two. Knight-Captain Cade’s questions on my fertility were far too pointed.”

            Of all the things Arthur expected, such frank honesty from the woman was almost the last thing. “Me being with Danse doesn’t bother you?”

            She lowered her gaze. “For a bit, I thought… Never mind. I’ve got half the male officers after me with their so-called charming personalities because of my precious pre-War uterus. I understand – may not _like_ , but I understand – why procreation amongst the ranking staff is so organised. My mother’s side were Boston Brahmins – think the pre-War equivalent of Proctor Quinlan’s family – and even in the 21st Century, they had a lot of arranged unions.”

            There had been a flash of pain in those radstag-doe eyes, quickly stifled. Sparrow _had_ fancied Danse until she discovered his relationship with Maxson… so she was offering to do this for a friend’s beloved. The staggering amount of courage on the heels of discovering what her son had become was enough to make the Elder want to salute her.

            “Arthur and I both find women attractive but…” Danse’s heavy shoulders shrugged as Maxson wondered where his statement was going. “But the high-ranking Ladies of the Brotherhood are more in love with the Maxson name than Arthur himself if they’re willing to share and since Sarah Lyons died seven years ago, there has been no female of enough rank to hold her own nor have need of the added lustre of the Elder’s bloodline.”

            “I know what you mean,” Sparrow observed with a grim quirk of the mouth. “Mother managed to marry Father because she was the last of _her_ line and they were both aristocrats of a sort – he belonged to a two centuries’ old Boston Irish crime family. But some of _his_ acquaintances had likely lads looking to add the Killian family connections to their portfolios. I wound up choosing a New York Irish man orphaned in his teens who’d served as one of my dad’s corporals in Anchorage because he grieved for him as much as I did.”

            Arthur regarded her with the expression of a man who’s finally met someone that understands what he’s lived with all his life. “Exactly. Not to speak ill of those ladies – a fair few had parents pressing the issue – but I am trying to avoid another factional dispute that could shatter the Brotherhood _again._ ”

            “I figured as much.” Sparrow sighed and rubbed the back of her neck. “I’ll only ask for two things, Arthur – may I call you Arthur?”

            “Of course,” he agreed readily, feeling sweet relief running through his veins. “What do you want?”

            “One, a say in how the children are brought up. I figure you’ll need two or three to secure the bloodline because Brotherhood life is harsh.” Sparrow looked at him carefully.

            “If you are willing, I would make you Lady Maxson,” he answered immediately. “You’re intelligent, shrewd, compassionate and dedicated.”

            The Vault Dweller blinked and then looked thoughtful. “I… could maybe do that if you give me a little more time. I want to see the Institute burned from the face of the earth before I think of the future.”

            “Agreed.” Arthur shifted in his seat. “What’s the second thing you want?”

            “That any son we have is called Killian Ahern,” she answered quietly. “You’re not the only one who wants to see his name continue.”

            “Ahern?” Danse asked.

            “My mother’s pre-marriage name.”

            Arthur sighed in relief. Such simple, _reasonable_ requests. “Done and done.”

            “Thank you.” Sparrow’s gaze was shadowed. “Shaun was named for Nate’s father. The next son we would have had was likely to be Frances for _my_ father. Daughters would have been Moira for his mother and Elisabeth for mine. But all of them would have had Killian Ahern as middle names.”

            The look on Danse’s face was equal to the relief in Arthur’s heart. He obviously cared for Sparrow and to know that she was willing to help out Arthur eased a lot of stress for them both. “ _Thank you,_ Sparrow. You don’t know what this means to us.”

            Her smile was a little sad. “I’m not sure if I’ll ever love again. But at least I can make life a little easier for my friend and the man he loves – and obviously adores him back.”

            The Vault Dweller sighed explosively. “My cycle’s at its most fertile in a few days. I don’t know how Brotherhood handles this, but I would like at least a nice dinner before anything, assuming that we’re doing this the natural way.”

            Danse looked a little surprised. “You know your own fertility cycle?”

            Sparrow’s smile was a little wry, a little sad. “I’m Irish-Catholic. We were expected to try and avoid using contraception unless someone’s health was at risk or the circumstances weren’t right to raise a child, but the use of withdrawal and knowing your cycle were considered perfectly acceptable.”

            “Ah.”

            Arthur leaned over and poured each of them a shot of whiskey to toast the agreement. “Even if you have no wish to become Lady Maxson, Sparrow, you are as dear to me as Danse and may ask anything,” he vowed softly. “For this, I am in your debt.”

            Sparrow’s smile was determined. “There are no debts between friends, Arthur.”

            They toasted and drank, Arthur feeling that things would turn out alright after all.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Thanks for reading and reviewing. Smut time!

 

A discreet word to Knight-Captain Cade saw Sparrow drinking the most disgusting green concoction known to man and God until the night she’d be most fertile. Still, for the sake of Danse and Arthur, she’d persevere.

            She could have loved Danse. But the Paladin’s eyes and heart were firmly on Maxson, so Sparrow settled for a close friendship. When the politics of the Brotherhood became clear, she decided to give them a hand because (at the time) she believed both men to be confirmed bachelors, as they used to say in the old days, and her bloody uterus should be good for something. So long as she got to have a say in the child’s future and they had the Killian Ahern names, she was fine.

            Tonight was show time. And now the deed was to be done, she felt a little fluttering in her stomach. It had been over a year since she’d had sex (technically two hundred and ten, but in her perception of time a year or so) and she expected it would be awkward. So as she marched over to Maxson’s bedroom, the Brotherhood soldiers carefully _not_ acknowledging her, she actually considered a shot of whiskey to settle her nerves. But no, she’d made a promise to Nate that she wouldn’t solve her emotional problems with chems or alcohol.

            Danse got the door when she knocked on it, drawing her inside with a sweep of his broad arm. Sparrow recalled that he’d claimed both him and Arthur found women attractive…

            “Party of three?” she asked mildly, heartbeat quickening at the thought.

            “I’ve…” Arthur Maxson, Elder of the Eastern Brotherhood of Steel, actually blushed. “I’ve never been with a woman. Danse has. If it makes you uncomfortable…”

            “Give me a bloody good orgasm and I’ll forgive almost anything,” Sparrow heard herself saying.

            Something ignited in Danse’s eyes, a smouldering heat that made _her_ blush. Then he stepped forward, mouth crashing on hers and tongue plundering hers until she pulled him close. Thick fingers opened her cotton dress from behind, calluses rubbing against her nipples wonderingly until they hardened… and then pinched, making her whimper in pleasure-pain.

            “Generally whatever feels good on a man feels good on a woman,” Danse instructed, pulling his mouth from Sparrow’s and talking to Arthur, who was rubbing his thumbs over her nipples. “Follow your instincts and go from there.”

            Then Sparrow found herself turned around to face an Arthur Maxson whose blue eyes burned with an intensity that scorched her to the marrow. Both men were shirtless, no doubt having… ah… gotten each other ready for the party, and Arthur’s chest gleamed with sweat. If it took more than one go to conceive, Sparrow might have the pleasure of chasing those sweat beads down to his belly with her tongue.

            Danse’s clever fingers undid her hair, letting it fall from the bun, and Arthur’s eyes positively flared. Then he twined his fingers in her hair and pulled her close, peppering her face, neck and shoulders with wet, open-mouthed kisses as Danse lavished attention on her breasts with his hands from behind. Both men were erect, cocks poking her in her wrinkled belly and rounded ass, and the thought of being caged in their muscular arms was ferociously arousing for Sparrow.

            When Arthur took a nipple in his mouth, Sparrow moaned in pleasure. Then she felt a little guilty. “What about you two?” she asked when her mouth was free to speak.

            “We got started early,” Danse admitted huskily. “And… this is our way of thanking you.”

            Sparrow shrugged a little. _Enjoy it while you can._ “Okay. You have my permission to proceed.”

            It eventually got to Arthur’s couch somewhere between her first and second orgasms, Sparrow lying across the arm with her ass in the air and patting the cushions with her hand. Her inhibitions had gone out the window for tonight and…she hoped that conception would take a few goes if the sex was going to be this fantastic. Her fondness for Danse had broadened to include Arthur as they drank the bottle of whiskey between them the other night and the Elder, for his technical virginity when it came to women, had swiftly adapted his sexual know-how to include her. He’d given her the second orgasm by eating her out until she was stifling the screams by kissing Danse.

            The Brotherhood _did_ encourage perfection in its members, after all, and Arthur drove himself to be a paragon by their exacting standards.

            Arthur slid a thick finger into her, bringing a moan to her lips. Then he added two, scissoring them as she scrabbled at the cushions to get away from the excess stimulation. “Am I hurting you?” he asked a little anxiously.

            “No,” she gasped over her shoulder at him. “I’d just like to know if you’re going to take all night.”

            Her taunt had an effect: Arthur’s lips peeled back in a hungry snarl and he buried himself until his balls were hitting her ass. She lost her breath with a whoosh, gathering it again as Danse knelt on the couch, lifting her chin tentatively to regard her with something resembling shyness. It didn’t take much imagination to know what he wanted. She nodded and found herself presented with a thick, heavy cock.

            Licking the head, she was greeted with the taste of salt and musk, feeling Danse shudder against her tongue. She peeled back the foreskin to reveal the purple-red head and took him inside her mouth, only a little as she needed to breathe. It took them a couple tries to set up a rhythm satisfactory for all involved and soon Sparrow found herself sucking the Paladin’s cock while getting rammed by the Elder from behind.

            Wherever the pragmatism that allowed her to agree to this came from, Sparrow would never know. But when the men kissed each other briefly above her and then Arthur kissed her back, Danse caressing her hair with grateful gentleness, she knew it was the right choice. Her heart twisted and expanded into a new configuration as they spilled almost simultaneously in her, Arthur’s fingers on her clit giving her the extra push she required to fall over the edge, and in its wake she felt the first moment of peaceful lassitude she’d had since awakening to the Wasteland.

…

The next morning, she was awoken by Danse’s erection poking her back and found herself staring into Arthur’s eyes. “Good morning,” he said with grave formality, as if they hadn’t had a particularly interesting time the night before.

            “Good morning,” she greeted, unable to stifle the silly giggle in her voice. She felt like she’d downed a whole bottle of champagne and was silly-drunk from it.

            Arthur’s beard scraped against her cheek as his lips claimed her mouth gently. “Thank you,” he breathed when he broke the kiss.

            “Thank _you_ ,” she responded. “I didn’t even know that I needed this.”

            “Frankly, neither did we.” That was Danse from behind, kissing the top of her head. “Arthur’s had the need to procreate hanging over his head since he became Elder and it was casting a very subtle shadow over our relationship. Having someone who’s, ah…”

            “Enthusiastic about being the meat in a Brotherhood beefcake sandwich?” Sparrow asked impishly.

            “Eternal Steel,” Arthur breathed as his cock hardened against her belly. “I never expected…”

            “I wasn’t the best Catholic girl at college,” Sparrow admitted with a blush. “Mom and Dad would have had a collective heart attack if they’d known. But the Lord grants us forgiveness and I figured I might as well have something worth confessing to the priest on Sunday.”

            She rested the back of her head against Danse’s ridiculously muscular chest as Arthur began to mouth at the side of her neck. “I never thought I’d see that young woman again,” she sighed. “Thank you for reminding me of her.”

            The next lovemaking was gentle as the Prydwen started its morning shift. Danse reluctantly retreated, stroking himself as Arthur and Sparrow worked on making babies again; he couldn’t chance siring the child. The new shape of her heart led her to promise him silently that if God was willing, one day he’d have a dark-haired baby boy of his own.

            When she went to attend to morning Scribe duties, bones aching and deliciously raw in the right places, Sparrow felt more _herself_ – not the treasured wife, not the fragile mother, not the broken Initiate but Sparrow Killian, the occasionally lapsed Irish-Catholic girl who could knock back whiskey with the best of them and enjoyed a good time with a couple lonely soldier boys – since forever.

            She let the grief of her past go, the shape of it still scarred in her heart but no longer poisoning her, and looked for the first time to the future.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Thanks for reading and reviewing! Feels time! I hope I've portrayed the Elders right - but if not, please remember this is mainly smut, and I need something resembling a plot to write smut.

 

Sparrow was just showing her pregnancy when Danse led the attack on the Institute and blew them sky-high. To the grave with him went the secret that he’d executed her son on his deathbed; Shaun Finlay was sick from cancer, unable to understand why his mother couldn’t support the Institute’s amoral actions. But blood was blood, steel was steel and justice was justice.

            He returned to the Prydwen to find Sparrow weeping into Arthur’s shoulder and enfolded them both in an embrace, uncaring of who saw. The Vault Dweller had slid herself into the partnership between Danse and Arthur, the softness and sweetness of her soothing their raw and ragged parts. She would be Lady Maxson officially but everyone on the airship knew that it was both the Sentinel and the Elder who shared her bed. It was just never officially acknowledged.

            Once she’d confirmed to have conceived, Danse allowed himself the delirious pleasure of burying himself to the hilt in Sparrow, Arthur holding her so they both cradled her in their arms. They were careful with her as she was so small compared to them and nothing could be allowed to threaten the child within but there were so many ways to love her, to love each other, and for the first time in forever Danse felt his heart swell to overflowing.

            He’d loved Arthur since the Elder became a man. But Maxson didn’t need a protector and at the heart of it, Danse needed someone to protect. Sparrow fulfilled that need neatly, willing to hold her own but happy to let another carry the burden if he wished.

            Arthur was more relaxed now, the overheavy burden of the need to continue the Maxson name reduced. When Sparrow was sleepy or moody or just wanted to be left alone, curled up on the couch with a blanket and some pillows, Danse and Arthur made love and renewed their bonds, which had been in danger of shredding and the Sentinel never aware of it.

            As Sparrow’s belly bloomed, so did she. There was a peace in her, the glow of an expecting mother, and when Knight-Captain Cade confirmed she was carrying twins the Vault Dweller burst into tears of release. The child taken from her by the Institute was gone, but babies she could raise without the shadow of constant war and with all the support she could ever need were now hers to hope for.

            The birthing was hard. Sparrow was a little woman and in the end, after twelve hours of screaming labour that almost saw a breech birth, Cade made the decision to perform a C-section to save both mother and children. John Ahern Maxson and Killian Frances Maxson came into the world as squalling, red-faced brutes of babies with their mother’s chestnut hair and father’s heavy bones.

             With the Institute destroyed and heirs to his name, Arthur declared it was time to return to the Capital Wasteland and take his rightful place of High Elder. The traditionalist Elders were going to have a fit with his wife being a Vault Dweller and Sentinel being a Wastelander… but Arthur was fired up and ready to take them on.

            Sparrow was feeding the twins as the yelling seeped out of the Elders’ meeting chamber, everyone between Lost Hills and the newly established Commonwealth chapter – led by Proctor Quinlan, who awaited Arthur’s ascension to be named to the rank of Elder – flown in by vertibird to take part in the selection process. Henry Casdin, the Elder of the Outcasts and he of the wife and female Consort who’d both borne him offspring, was somewhat hypocritically against Arthur having a bride and a _male_ Consort. When Danse, unashamedly eavesdropping at the door, overheard some _very_ unpleasant insinuations concerning his relationship with Arthur, he held up a finger at Lady Maxson.

            “Can you give me a moment? I need to express my dissatisfaction with Elder Casdin.”

            “Have fun,” Sparrow said dryly as she burped John.

            The Sentinel grinned and then kicked open the door.

            Several pairs of alternately outraged, amused, relieved and coolly assessing eyes followed his progress across the room to Elder Casdin, a burly man who was going to fat now he wasn’t in the field, and the slapping down of the formal gauntlet he wore. “Battle-circle. You. Me. Now,” Danse grated. “Let’s discuss my qualifications to be Sentinel of the Capital Wasteland Brotherhood with power fists and armour, hmm?”

            “Excuse me?” Casdin demanded, half-rising from his seat.

            “You’ve just taken my Elder’s judgment into question and impugned my skills as a combatant and strategist,” Danse growled. “A Sentinel can demand satisfaction for that, even from an Elder himself.”

            “Go ahead, Casdin,” Quinlan drawled amusedly. “We’ll give you a lovely funeral.”

            “If you somehow _win_ , you and I will have a brief discussion in the battle-circle,” Arthur promised in a cold rasp. “Danse _earned_ his rank outside the bedroom. And what is between him, I and Lady Maxson is our concern unless it impacts on the Brotherhood’s doctrine. And I don’t see anything that forbids me from having an openly acknowledged male Consort.”

            Casdin sat down but Rothschild pursed his lips. “Are you all sharing a bed?” he asked bluntly.

            “Yes, but the children are mine,” Arthur responded. “Danse was careful to avoid vaginal intercourse with her until it was confirmed we’d conceived.”

            “Not to cast aspersions on the Lady, but may we confirm this for ourselves?” Rothschild was perfectly polite.

            “I’ll get Sparrow,” Danse offered.

            He opened the door and took Killian from her while she cradled John. Sparrow was wearing a Brotherhood uniform that had been modified to allow for easy breastfeeding and the stern look that promised retribution if any Elder was fool enough to declare her children as not Arthur’s.

            Nolan McNamara, Elder of the Mojave Chapter, was the first to study the babies. “They have the Maxson eyes,” he confirmed with a hint of a smile. “Strong and healthy too.”

            John expressed his opinion of the judgment by vomiting on the Elder’s robes, making him laugh wryly and wipe the baby’s mouth with the edge of the robe. “I’m sorry,” Sparrow said with a blush. “I hadn’t quite finished burping him.”

            “No worries. One day I can tell my grandchildren that a Maxson vomited on my robes,” Nolan said dryly.

            Head Scribe Bigsley pursed his lips after examining the babies. “My concern is the effect on the Chain That Binds doctrine,” he observed. “I can vouch for your competency, Danse; no one denies that. But one _shouldn’t_ be both Sentinel and Consort. It… muddies up the chain of command.”

            “Not to mention the fact that Lady Maxson must be above approach,” Senior Paladin Jacqueline Lee, a distant cousin of the Lyons from her mother’s side, pointed out.

            “I’m not _in_ the chain of command anymore,” Sparrow responded calmly. “I resigned from my post as Field Scribe once it was discovered I was pregnant. I mostly handle logistics and assist Knight-Captain Cade in the infirmary these days.”

            “Forgive the blunt question, but… well… why would you agree to… ah…?” Jacqueline’s cheeks were a little red.

            “Be the meat in a Brotherhood beefcake sandwich?” Sparrow finished with that sweet wicked smile. “Have you _seen_ either of them naked?”

            Jacqueline coughed, running an assessing gaze over the two men. Arthur met her gaze with a raised eyebrow while Danse simply kept his face straight. “No, I haven’t and I think I’m a little jealous.”

            “But seriously, Danse was my best friend and I grew to care for Arthur after getting to know him,” Sparrow continued with a more sober expression. “I started out doing a favour for a couple friends – my family had held a pre-War position in society not unlike the hereditary families of the Brotherhood, so I understood some of the pressure of having to have heirs – who I thought both exclusively preferred men.”

            “Not the first time someone has done that in the Brotherhood,” Rothschild confirmed with a sigh. “Your mother was Elisabeth Killian, nee Ahern, yes?”

            “Yes!” Sparrow observed, looking at the old Scribe with a startled gaze.

            “You may not know this, but your life story let us fill in some of the early history of the faction known as the Enclave, which was formed by the most influential men and women of America that was just before the bombs fell,” Rothschild continued gravely. “Your mother’s holotapes were found by Scribes in the ruins of the Poseidon oil rig.”

            Danse and Arthur gave each other surprised glances. This was something that could have… interesting consequences, given that the Brotherhood had defeated the Enclave at least twice.

            “That… doesn’t surprise me,” Sparrow said, echoing Rothschild’s sigh. “My mother was in military intelligence and saw nothing wrong with using her connections to get her friends and family ahead. I imagine the Brotherhood acts similarly.”

            “We’ve… had our moments,” Nolan conceded.

            “Your mother mourned you until the end of her life, Lady Maxson,” Rothschild said gently. “I will give you copies of the holotapes.”

            “Thank you,” Sparrow said softly. “My son, Shaun, was very much like her.”

            “The Director of the Institute,” Rothschild agreed grimly. “We managed to get records of his actions from the network scanning programme Ingram created. Such cold, ruthless…”

            “Amorality?” Arthur finished.

            “Yes, amorality. Elisabeth Killian was humanised by her grief but Shaun Finlay… is a lesson in the arrogance of humanity to believe ourselves gods. Your sons and any future children will have heavy burdens to bear with their ancestry.” Rothschild sat back down. “I cast my vote for Arthur Maxson as High Elder.”

            “Wait, what?” Casdin blurted.

            “My vote was always conducive on Arthur winning the battle with the Institute and taking a bride,” the old Scribe retorted. “What the man does in the bedroom isn’t our concern.”

            “Agreed,” Nolan McNamara said with a sigh. “I’m not happy with his Sentinel also being a Consort, but we didn’t put that in the conditions for the job of High Elder.”

            “Roger Maxson would be spinning in his grave,” Bigsley growled. “But you’re right. Just so long as Danse gets that he only has authority in the Capital Wasteland Brotherhood.”

            The votes were reluctant but Arthur had them. He’d fulfilled the exact conditions for becoming High Elder, not the implied ones that he should give up Danse and marry a good Brotherhood girl.

            Casdin voted last, reluctantly and dourly. “Just remember that a High Elder can be stripped of his rank,” the Outcasts’ Elder said darkly.

            “At least _I_ never abandoned my post,” Arthur said coolly.

            Rothschild ended the meeting before another challenge could be issued.

            When it was over, the ancient Scribe approached Arthur, Sparrow and Danse. “You may wish you were just commanding soldiers on the Prydwen in a few months,” he observed wryly. “You’ve shown a willingness to bend the doctrine that makes some think of the Lyons.”

            “Every Maxson has lived to serve others,” the newly raised High Elder pointed out. “Sparrow found us the door to the Institute and Danse kicked it down.”

            “I know.” Rothschild pursed his lips. “I think old Owyn would have had a heart attack but Sarah… she would have understood needing to grasp something for yourself.”

            “If she had lived, I would have asked her to be the mother of my children,” Arthur admitted starkly. “One for the Maxsons, one for the Lyons. Sparrow was a pleasant surprise but losing Danse was never an option.”

            “I know. Her loss was a great one.” Rothschild’s gaze was direct. “If you had lied about all three of you sharing a bed, I would have voted against you, Arthur. I can forgive alternate interpretations of the doctrine and the Chain That Binds… but not lying. That shatters the Codex.”

            He chuckled at Sparrow, showing the flashing eyes of a much younger man. “I may not approve of the arrangement but it’s good to see Arthur looking happier and healthier… and to see the Maxson line continued. Much may be forgiven for that.”

            Sparrow smiled sweetly, that wicked smile that promised much, and Rothschild actually coughed. “I think I’m rather glad you’re married to Arthur,” the Scribe said dryly. “I can only imagine the chaos you’d cause otherwise.”

            “There’s nothing in the doctrine that forbids me from having fun while continuing the family name,” she pointed out.

            “No, there isn’t.” Rothschild nodded to the three of them. “I better pull Quinlan out of the fray before he slices Casdin to death with his sharp tongue.”

            “You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Danse said dryly.

            “Eternal Steel help us all,” Rothschild muttered as he walked away. “What have we unleashed?”

            _Your rightful High Elder,_ Danse thought proudly as he wrapped his huge arms around his family after passing Killian to Arthur. _His Lady and his Sentinel-Consort. Any of you old fucks tries to ruin my family, the Chain that Binds won’t save you from my wrath._

He had a home, someone to protect and someone to command him. His life was perfect.


End file.
